


61+47

by mduhhtk



Category: The Long Walk - Richard Bachman
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood, Hurt, Mentions of Blood, Suicidal Thoughts, there’s really no shippy stuff, they are kinda crazy, theyve been through a lot, trama, uhhhh, you can ignore it if you want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23539468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mduhhtk/pseuds/mduhhtk
Summary: a short piece on what if McVires didn’t die? What if Garraty made him get up and keep walking?
Relationships: Ray Garraty & Peter McVries, Ray Garraty & Stebbins, Ray Garraty/Jan, Ray Garraty/Peter McVries
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	61+47

**Author's Note:**

> hi  
> uh wow  
> this is my first fic Ever and also the first thing i’ve written for fun in literal YEARS  
> i hope you enjoy :)

He was ready to die, god, he wanted to die. His time was up and there really wasn’t a point of keeping walking. There were only the three of them left, him, Garraty, and Stebbins, that diamond bastard. Two of them Had to die, there was no other way. So why was Garraty yelling at him to keep going? Why was he pulling on his arm and crying. Just let me die, Ray. It’s my time. But, god those blue eyes just staring, begging him not to. To wait just a little bit long. To walk a few more miles.

And somehow, deep inside him, he found the strength. He slowly got up, increasing the agony of his lower body tenfold, and kept walking. His mind was blank as Ray grabbed his hand and pulled him along. Vaguely, like from some other body, he heard the crowd go nuts. Those blood thirsty bastards would see to his death. Soon, but not now.

So, they walked, hand in hand. Three men, god not even. Three boys walking to the gallows. tightening the noose around their necks. McVires didn’t see how Garraty couldn’t get it by now. He had three warnings, he was a dead man walking. his ticket was reaching out, ready to take his hand and guide him into whatever shitty afterlife there was. But he didn’t get his ticket. He kept walking, forever walking.

Eventually, they walked long enough for two of McVires’ warnings to go. It’s been two hours, I’m living on borrowed time. Right now, none of them have any warnings but him. He only has one though, so it doesn’t much matter. The crowd hates it. they scream and yell, but the walkers don’t notice.

There's only a few things Pete feels now.  
The road under his broken feet.  
The sound of his breathing, heavy even in his ears.  
And Ray’s hand in his. Guiding him along.  
The roar of the crowd was only background noise. A humming in his ears, adding to his headache.

Ray was saying something, but McVires couldn't hear. He stumbled along as Garraty went off on some mission. To talk to one of the others, he supposed. Who was left? All hundred? No, that didn’t sound right. 50 maybe. 20. That sounds more like it.

———————————————

“Pete. Pete,” Garraty whispered, “we can sit down soon. Just wait a little longer. I'm going to tell Stebbins. He deserves to know.” Garraty gently let go of McVires hand, keeping a steady eye on him as he began to speed up. After a few moments Garraty caught up with Stebbins. Stebbins, their fucking white rabbit. The Major’s bastard. Garraty reaches out, touches him. But when Stebbins looks up something’s wrong. They both know what’s happening, Stebbins and him, with McVires dazedly walking ahead. Ray sees the death in his eyes. He's seen it in too many others in the last few days. Too many friends. Stebbins flinches at Garraty’s touch then grabs onto his shirt, desperately. There’s something he wants to say, to get through to Garraty. He seems to be speaking through his eyes.

As Stebbins falls to the ground, he tears off Garraty’s shirt.  
Warning! Warning 88. It must be for interference. They’ve slowed, almost stopped walking. Stebbins falls to the ground, dead. _They’re still going to shoot him_ , Ray thinks. _He's still going to get warned like he’s just going to stand up and start skipping along._  
Warning! Second Warning 88.  
Warning! Warning 47.  
Up ahead McVires is still stumbling along. Good. He deserves to win. McVires stops momentarily, then looks down at his hand, confused. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but Garraty can’t hear if he does speak.  
Warning! Third Warning 88.  
Warning! Second Warning 47.  
Warning! Second Warning 61.  
Garraty tries to move but he can’t. He’s frozen. It’s the starting line and he’s frozen. He’s going to collect his ticket without walking a foot. Just like the walker from years past that one of the others had told him about. Had it been Baker who told him? Or Olson?  
The gunshot brings him out of his trance. Stebbins is gone. He's bought his ticket. there’s just the two of them left. He might as well sit down. Let McVires win.  
Warning! Third warning 47.  
Warning! Third warning 61.

——————————————————-

McVires is walking slowly when he hears the warning. Number 88. Who is that? Who has just brought themselves a step closer to death? Then- another call. Two more warnings. 88 and 40-something. Something tugs at his gut. He doesn’t know why, but he knows this isn’t supposed to happen. Whoever that number is, they shouldn’t be getting a warning. McVires isn’t supposed to allow that.

He squeezes gently at Ray's hand, but his fingers close in the air. He stops. When did Ray leave? He must only be a step behind. Garraty will know who the numbers are. Surely not any of their friends. None of the musketeers. It must be someone else. Maybe that Parker kid whose mom keeps showing up. Or maybe one of those two up in the front. One of the brothers. He turns his head and asks, “Who was that? Who got a warning?”  
Warning! Third Warning 88.  
Warning! Second Warning 47.  
Warning! Second Warning 61.  
But the space behind him is empty, and Garraty is a ways back. Someone’s fallen in front of Garraty. And for some reason, Ray’s shirt is ripped open. Weird…

The walker on the ground is shot. Once, twice, three times. He bought his ticket. The first walker to go. It was the skinny kid. McVires can’t remember his name. The bright blood surrounding him only adds to the bright purple pants and green jacket.  
Warning! Third warning 47.  
Warning! Second warning 61.  
The cogs in McVires head turn slowly, as if rebooting after being dormant a long, long time. I’m 61. I’m on my third warning. If I don’t start moving I’m a dead man. For some reason, the thought doesn’t bother him much. Not at all. But who’s the other number? 47?  
47.  
47.  
47.  
Maine’s own.  
Garraty.  
Ray.  
On his third warning. Not moving. Seconds away from being shot in the head. This isn’t real. This isn’t supposed to happen. 47’s supposed to win. He’s got his mom at home. A girl he’s in love with. He’s nïave and sweet. So, so sweet. He’s got his whole state rooting for him. He’s got that trucker betting ten dollars on him. He’s too alive to die.

 _Ray. Oh Ray! No!_ And Pete finally wakes up, like he's been asleep since five pm yesterday. and he runs. He's got seconds to make Ray walk again, but so did Garraty when McVires wanted to sit down. He runs backwards along the road and grabs Garraty by the arm, physically forcing him to walk. McVires isn’t as strong as he was on the first of April, but he’s still stronger than Ray. So he makes him walk. And when Garraty starts to babble about how he should let him die, how McVires deserves to win, Pete shuts him up with a look.

This is all wrong. But here they are. The last two. What now? Neither of them will let the other die, they know that, deep inside. So now! So what you’re gonna do is let me sit down.”  
“But-”  
“After you win, you’re going to give Scramm’s wife Cathy enough to be comfortable with. You’re going to buy Baker the fuckin’ fanciest coffin you can. Then, you’re gonna go get yourself a decent house for your family. Then, you’re gonna propose to your girl.” Garraty protested, but McVires continued. “Jan? That’s her name, right? Then you’re gonna live a fucking apple pie life with one of those fucking white picket fences and-and three kids and a dog.” They keep walking, McVires holding on to Garraty’s arm. Garraty looks down at his feet then back up at McVires.

There’s something wrong. Pete can see it immediately. It’s not death. No, Pete would have passed out if he saw that tell-tale look of death in Ray’s eyes. But, there’s still something wrong. This isn’t how this is supposed to happen. They stop, together. And Ray grabs onto McVires and holds onto him like his life depends on it. And it might. Then, he goes limp in McVries’ arms, out cold.

This isn’t how this is supposed to happen. McVires was supposed to have been shot sitting down, about two and a half hours ago. Garraty was supposed to keep going, to outlast Stebbins. To win. To stay alive.

But Ray is not conscious and he’s in Pete’s arms. Pete lowers him down to the ground and sets him down gently. He feels, rather than hears, the crowd silence in anticipation. They breathe in as one. They think he’ll leave. They think he’ll start walking like he wants to live with Ray gone.

Well he won’t. And he sits down. He puts Garraty’s head in his lap and moves the sweaty hair off his face, out of his closed eyes. _They’ll have to shoot us both_ , he thinks. _Good. They don’t get a goddamned winner. Fuck them._ Pete closes his eyes.

_**Bang! Bang!** _


End file.
